Breaking Up Is Really, Really Hard to Do (14 page)

“You know what you need?” Stephen said. “A song.” He paged through the songbook and wrote down a number. “When they call 3416, go up on stage.”

“What song is it?” Mads said. “What if I don't know it?”

“You know it,” Stephen said. He gave the number to the karaoke guy.

“Girls, I haven't seen any of you up there yet,” Sebastiano said, pulling up a chair.

“Number 3416!” Rebecca shouted.

“That's you, Mads!” Lina said.

“Oh no,” Mads said.

“Get up there!” Sebastiano dragged her to her feet and pushed her toward the stage. The song title came up. “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones.

“That's a tough one,” Holly said. “No one but Mick Jagger can do it right.”

“She knows it by heart,” Stephen said. “I heard her singing it under her breath one day while she was drawing. She gets this little growl in her voice…I'm telling you, she can do it.”

Mads started singing, shyly at first, but before long she was growling and shouting and strutting across the tiny stage. Soon the crowd was on her side, singing along during the chorus. When it was over the whole room roared. People slapped Mads’ hands as she went back to her table in a daze.

“Wow, that was fun!” she said.

“Way to work that crowd, Mads,” Sebastiano said. “You've got hidden star power.”

“You think so?”

“Well, it's a really catchy song,” Sebastiano said.

Walker came over. “Lina, I've got a song coming up soon and I need a partner.”

Lina shrank back. The last thing she felt like doing was getting on stage and singing. She was still recovering from her secret rendezvous that afternoon. And going from oompah band to karaoke—it was a little too much kitsch for one day.

“Sorry, Walker, I can't,” she said. “I'm kind of tired—”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her seat. “Too bad. This is a duet. I'm not singing it alone. You want me to look like an idiot?”

“No,” Lina said. “But I don't want to look like an idiot, either.”

“Come on, Lina,” Holly said. “Everybody has to go up at least once.”

“It's fun!” Mads said.

Lina could see she had no choice. Walker's song came up, an oldie called “Don't Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee.

“Do you know it?” Walker asked.

Lina nodded. “My dad likes to listen to the seventies station.”

“My mom, too. She used to sing this one to me.”

They started out shyly, but soon picked up speed. Lina looked at the audience, just kids from school, her friends, swaying and clapping along. She let herself go and before she knew it, the song was over.

“Awesome! Wooo!” the crowd cheered. Lina stumbled through the clapping crowd back to her table.

“You rock!” Mads said.

“You were right, it was fun,” Lina said.

Holly couldn't quite forget that Rob and Christie were there, but she was starting to have a good time at least. Then the number was called for another duet—this time, Rob and Christie.

Sebastiano looked at Holly expectantly. “I'm waiting,” he said. “Snarky remark? When's it coming?”

“It's not,” Holly said. “This is the new, non-critical Holly. No snarky remarks. Christie seems like a very nice girl.”

“Please, Holly,” Sebastiano said. “If you can last five minutes without insulting her, I'll be shocked.”

Rob and Christie sang “Crazy in Love” by Beyonce and Jay-Z. It sucked. Christie was a worse singer than Rob. But, fatally, she lacked his sense of humor about it. She seemed to think she was Jessica Simpson up there, dancing and singing her little heart out.

“Ouch,” Sebastiano said, trying to goad Holly. “We're talking first-round
American Idol
reject.”

“She's doing her best,” Holly said. “What more can we ask?”

“Come on, Holly. Look at the way she dances! Like a bee just stung her butt! You know you want to say it.”

“That would only be petty of me,” Holly said. “Christie's probably a good person inside. Isn't that what counts?”

“Holly, now you're the one who's making me sick,” Mads said.

“Shh! Don't worry, Mads,” Sebastiano said. “She's going to crack any minute now.”

“No, I won't,” Holly insisted. “You must think I have no self-control at all.”

No one said a word.

“Thanks a lot,” Holly said.

The duet ended. Unfortunately, it threw a bit of a pall over the party.

“You know what, Holly? You're right,” Sebastiano said. “It really wasn't so bad. It was like outsider art You know that art that prisoners and mental patients make out of junk? It's very popular these days.”

“Yeah,” Holly said. “Except even a mental patient wouldn't wear a giant barrette in the shape of a cow.”

Whoops.

“Aha!” Sebastiano cried. “Got you!”

She couldn't help it. It was so hard not to be catty when Sebastiano was around. “It just slipped out,” Holly said. “It's all your fault!” And right when Rob was passing her table. She looked up. Yes, he definitely heard her.

“You know what your problem is, Holly?” Rob said. “You're so busy criticizing everyone else that you don't know how to have fun. I haven't seen you get up and sing yet. I'll bet you're afraid to. Maybe somebody in the audience will be as mean and critical as you are.”

He went back to his table. Christie giggled and covered her mouth.

“Whoa,” Sebastiano said. “He got you good.”

Holly sighed and slumped in her seat. “That's ridiculous,” she said. “He's wrong. I know how to have fun. I'm not afraid.”

But true or not, it didn't matter. If that was what Rob thought of her, she'd never get him back.

20

off to India

To: linaonme

From: your daily horoscope

HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: Your stars show a lot of lying and sneaking around—they've actually taken the shape of a tangled web. I can't condone this. Just what the heck is going on out there?

To: Larissa

From: Beauregard

Re: ???

Dear Larissa,

I guess you know what I'm about to ask you. Maybe I shouldn't ask, but I have to know—why didn't you show up today? Did I get the address wrong? The date? The time? I went to The Garden Restaurant at five to one and waited for you for three hours. I would have stayed longer but if I had to listen to that band play “Roll Out the Barrel” one more time I was going to shoot someone. Probably myself. (An odd choice of meeting place, I might add—but that only deepens your mystery for me. What kind of girl would go to a place like that? An unusual girl, to say the least. Unless, of course, you never planned on showing up at all and only wanted to torture me.)

And so, if you could give me the dignity of an explanation, I would appreciate it. If you would like me to stop writing, I will. If I don't hear from you, you won't hear from me again. Forgive my somber tone, but you can't imagine how much I was looking forward to meeting you—and how disappointed and disillusioned I was when you never came.

—Beauregard

Lina found Dan's e-mail waiting for her when she got home from Autumn's party. It broke her heart to read it. She felt ashamed, and his scolding tone only made things worse. What could she say? What kind of excuse could she give for the terrible way she had treated him? And how could she get out of meeting him face-to-face without losing this precious correspondence?

Because she knew she couldn't meet him, not like this. He was too tied up with Larissa, emotionally. Finding out Larissa was one of his students might upset him even more than never knowing who she was at all.

But at the same time, she couldn't let go of Beauregard. He meant too much to her. His e-mails made her feel warm inside, beautiful and loved. And being Larissa was so much fun! Larissa felt almost real to Lina—a real part of her, the grown-up Lina who hadn't emerged yet, but would some day.

She took a deep breath and tried to think straight. Her hands were shaking. All right. She had to make up some reason why she couldn't meet him, something believable, something he could forgive.

To: Beauregard

From: Larissa

Re: I'm so sorry!

Dear Beau,

I'm so sorry I didn't get to meet you today, but I have a good excuse, I swear! I just got back from the animal hospital. I was leaving to meet you when my cat suddenly got very sick—he swallowed a whole bag of gummi worms. Turns out they're like poison for cats—they get stuck in their guts. The vet rushed him into surgery and he just came out. Looks like he'll be okay. I would have called but I had no way to reach you. I'm so sorry. I didn't think you'd wait for me so long.

The Garden is a funny place, isn't it? I know it's cheesy, but I thought we could meet there, have a laugh, and then go someplace nicer. I can't believe you had to suffer with that band for three hours! You must have ears of steel.

Well, I'd better go to bed—I'm very tired. It's been a long day, and I have to get up early to visit Spike at the hospital. I hope you'll forgive me.

—Lara

She sent the e-mail, and a few minutes later a reply came. Dan must have been sitting up, waiting to hear from her.

To: Larissa

From: Beauregard

Re: I'm so sorry!

Lara—

I'm sorry to hear about your cat. I hope he'll be all right. I had no idea gummi worms were so toxic. Did you name your cat after a filmmaker—Spike Jonze, maybe, or Spike Lee? And I forgive you. I hope you forgive me for my angry e-mail and for not understanding immediately that you must have had a good excuse not to show up.

So let's make another date. When can we meet again? Next weekend, perhaps? Only anywhere but the Garden, if you don't mind.

Greatly relieved,

Beau

Hmm—she should have checked with Mads’ mother before going out on a limb with that toxic gummi worm thing. It probably wasn't true. This problem wasn't going to go away, was it? He still-wanted to meet her. She had to come up with some reason why he could never meet her, at least not for the next few years. But what?

This would be a true test of Lina's writing and lying skills.

To: Beauregard

From: Larissa

Re: Off to India

Dear Beau,

I wish I could meet you. I'd love to meet you. Believe me, I'm so curious about you I could burst! But there's one problem. A big problem. I just found out I was accepted at the Bollywood Film Center in Mumbai, India. I'm going there to study the techniques of the great Indian filmmakers. My master's thesis is on Indian movies, so this is crucial for me, as well as a big honor. And unfortunately, I'm leaving this Saturday. I have so much to do to get ready, I'm afraid I won't have time to meet you. There isn't much point anyway, since I'll be away in India indefinitely. But we can still write, and when I get back maybe we can get together.

You can keep writing me at this address—my e-mail server will bounce all my mail to my address in India. And hey, if you happen to be in India, let me know. Maybe we'll have our first meeting at the Taj Mahal.

—Larissa

That ought to hold him,
Lina thought sadly. She almost hoped he wouldn't write back. She was going to have to do a ton of research on India to make it sound as if she were studying there. Maybe she should have picked Japan instead—at least her ancestors came from there. But that was so long ago—the 1880s—that even her grandmother didn't know much about it.

Dan didn't write back that night. Maybe he was digesting what she'd written, trying to figure out what was real and what was a lie. She hoped he didn't come too close to the truth, which was that it was all lies. No truth in any of the e-mails she'd ever sent him. Except for this one fact: She had a big crush on him. And now she liked him more than ever. She'd just have to find another way to make him hers.

21

True Love vs. Artistic Integrity

To: mad4u

From: your daily horoscope

HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: Nothing you do turns out the way you planned—thank goodness. If you ran the universe it would be a huge mess.

M
ads stepped away from her easel and stared at the big poster-sized pastel drawing of Sean she had made. The pose was the same as in the digital photo she'd taken of him. But blown up so large—four feet tall—the picture made a very different impression. Sean stood on the tile in his bathing suit, goggles around his neck, rubber cap in one hand, arms outstretched, flexing his biceps. The muscles bulged slightly. The look on his face was, well, how would Mads put it? Confident was probably the nicest way of saying it. Smug would be less charitable. Vain would come closest to the truth.

“Stephen, come here,” Mads called. Stephen had finished his installation, but he wouldn't let anyone, including Mads, see the final product. He had taken it apart and was packing it away to move into the gym in the morning, where he'd set it up before the Art Fair began.

“What's up?” Stephen asked. “All done?” He crossed the room to look at her work.

“All done,” Mads said. “What do you think?”

Stephen crossed his arms and stared at the picture. Mads watched his face. His mouth twisted in an odd way. Then it bunched up toward his nose. He looked as if he were about to sneeze. He covered his face with his hands.

“What?” Mads asked. “What is it?”

Stephen let his hands fall from his face. He burst out laughing.

“It's hilarious!” he said. “It's really good, Mads. It captures him perfectly.” He collapsed on the floor in a fit of laughter.

“What's so funny?” Mads asked. “Why are you—” She turned to the picture, and it hit her. She'd worked so hard to show how gorgeous Sean was, and he did look gorgeous—but it was almost too much. The picture was like a cartoon of a Greek statue—and the expression on his face said he took himself completely seriously. The contrast between the self-satisfied look on his face and the goofy Hercules pose…Stephen was still laughing. Mads started laughing, too.

“Oh—my—god—” Mads struggled to speak through her laughter. “You're right. It's—so—funny—”

She sank to the floor and they leaned against each other, back to back, clutching their stomachs and laughing. Mads’ head accidentally clonked against his. “Ow!” they cried at the same time, and laughed even harder, rubbing their sore heads.